miser, misera, miserum
by DlRGE
Summary: A collection of stories. Most recent: They say the past always catches up to you, and this is very clear in the case of one Todd Casil.


I will ruin everything eventually. I hope this makes sense to you.

* * *

The sky is blue and cloudless, beautiful, on the day that the entire Casil family dies.

Todd is sitting cross-legged on the cracked pavement that leads up to the burning house, leaning back on his hands and watching the smoke dissipate into the sky. Grit digs into his fragile palms and he pushes his weight onto one hand as the other reaches for the bottle of Michelob Golden Draft. It's half empty, cap lying five feet away as he brings it to his lips and gulps.

His watch beeps. It has been exactly two hours since Todd Jackson Casil lit a fire in the center of the living room and walked out. He's been sitting in the same position ever since.

Houses take a while to burn, he muses to himself. It's a wonder the fire department hasn't shown up, but since when has anything in this rotten town done anything worthwhile?

"I kind of regret it, maybe," he tells the empty space around him. The roof caves in.

Michelob drained, he tosses the bottle at the house and through a window. The glass has shattered long ago, leaving gaping holes the fire escapes from in its wake.

Todd takes a moment to mourn his beer. If there's anything his father was good at, it was buying expensive beer. He was also good at spending his entire paycheck on it, because if you asked him, he didn't have a wife or a son at home to take care of.

"Oi," an accented voice sounds from behind him, "the fuck is this?"

Todd looks up at his best friend. "I burned them," he tells him, and then he starts to cry.

The fire burns up into the sky, and Pepito Diablo is at a loss for words.

The sky is blue and cloudless, beautiful, on the day that the entire Casil family dies.

* * *

"I am miserable," Todd announces one day. Pepito looks up at him. Ever since Todd's house burned down (- with his family, Pepito thinks, screams muffled by the gags tied around their mouths and ropes digging into soft flesh -) he's been staying with the Diablo's. Todd is lying on the bed, pale face pressed into Pepito's satin comforter. One bony arm flops off the bed, about an inch away from Pepito's shoulder. He's reclined against the bed, book in hand.

"You are, are you?" he asks, turning a page. "Guess that kinda comes with killing your parents."

"Hey," Todd says, softly, "don't talk about that."

Pepito doesn't say anything.

"What are you reading?" the brunette finally asks, and Pepito finally looks up at him. His hair is stringy and dull, eyes sunken into his sockets. He looks a lot like -

"Canterbury Tales," he replies, "Gotta read it for English."

"...Oh." There's a long pause. "I hated that book."

Pepito agrees, "It's boring." He lies down and closes the book. The room is silent except for the soft sound of breaths coming from the bed. Just as Pepito thinks the other boy fell asleep, he speaks up.

"Pepito..." He sounds scared, wary. "Do you think I'm going crazy?"

"Nah," he shrugs, "I don't think so." You aren't going crazy because you're _already_ crazy, you talked to your bear for most of your childhood, you tied up your parents and listened to them die, you're absolutely insane and "You know I love you, _sí, amigo?_"

Todd makes a soft affirmative noise, and Pepito's black heart sinks. It's not that he doesn't believe him, far from it. He just knows that Todd's love comes with a price.

Pity.

* * *

Todd goes missing a week later, and turns up two days after that. Pepito finds him in their backyard, clutching his arms and sobbing. He leads the taller boy inside, setting him in the tub and slowly stripping him. There's no meaning behind the action, no lust or desire, just a vague sense of despair as he scrubs dried red blood off his body.

"I'm sorry," Todd whispers, "I'm so, so sorry..."

"No one blames you for anything," Pepito tells him, because there's no one else alive to do so.

Todd practically lives in Pepito's bed, a small ball underneath the comforter, and he stays there until he doesn't. There will be no warning; Pepito will go to the bathroom and come back, and Todd will be gone. He sits and waits, then, for his best friend to return to him.

And then he does. He just appears, curled up under Pepito's sheets, and he has to wait until his mother goes to bed to wash the bloodstains out.

"I'm miserable," Todd whispers, and his voice has a rasp that wasn't there before. Pepito's heart sinks, and he ignores the intonation.

"I'm sorry," Pepito tells him, and kisses him softly. Todd doesn't react, not anymore, but it's alright. He doesn't mind.

He doesn't, _really_.

* * *

It isn't until six months later when his mom says something.

Pepito is sitting at the counter with a bowl of carrots, struggling to twist the cap off of a bottle of ranch dressing.

It's a cool Sunday afternoon in October, and he calls out a greeting as she returns from church. Her eyes seem haunted, and he stops.

"Mother?" he asks, setting down the unopened bottle.

"...There are murders happening again," she sniffs, biting her thumbnail. "It seems the killer is back... Oh, dear, they killed Annabeth just yesterday..."

Pepito's breath catches in his throat. "Oh. That. Um. That sucks... She was pretty nice..."

"Be careful when you go outside, okay, dear?" she kisses his cheek and goes to the coatroom to shrug off her jacket. "It's a scary world, you know."

He nods, not looking up at her as she continues.

"Oh, and when you see Todd next, tell him to come over for dinner sometime. I haven't seen him in months!"

* * *

Pepito's father never says anything, although Pepito _knows_ he knows about Todd. Instead, he gives him a small, queer smile and presses a small bottle of medicine into his hands. "What do you want for dinner?" he asks, and Pepito turns the bottle around in his hands.

Exactly twenty four hours later, Todd is struck by a 130 degree fever.

This is ridiculous, Pepito thinks as he reads the thermometer. Humans aren't supposed to be able to survive fevers this high!

"Pepito," Todd rasps. His hair is thinning, sick looking, and his skin is a sickly beige color. Dark circles surround his eyes, sunken into his skull, and he's almost stick thin. "Pepito, c'mere..."

Pepito leans over, feeling sick with worry. "_Sí, amigo?"_

"When do you think the scary neighbor man will come back...?" he manages, and Pepito closes his eyes.

Ah.

* * *

Todd vanishes, then, and Pepito doesn't see him until months later. Months, maybe years, it's easy to lose count in Hell. He's amazed Todd survived the Reckoning, but then again, isn't that his job?

"I need to get back home," Todd informs him, inspecting his nails. "If I'm gone too long, the Moose will escape."

"Oh, please." Pepito laughs, and it sounds hollow and broken only to his ears. "Are you homesick, Todd?"

"Todd?" The man in front of him looks confused. "Mister Devil, I think you've spent too much time downstairs." He giggles, then.

"...Sorry." Pepito draws himself to his full height. He does have a job to do, anyway. "Are you homesick, Johnny?"

* * *

tomorrow I will call you and tell you

that I have been drunk for a week straight

I want to know what you think about this

because I value your opinion

I enjoy being bitten during sex

because of the casual connection

between the act of biting and

the feeling of being bitten

in the dark I scroll upward for an hour

I read two years worth of text messages

you tell me something

I agree with you

I will ruin everything eventually

I hope this makes sense to you

~Mira Gonzalez


End file.
